The Renegade and the Phoenix
by JCI
Summary: What on Earth could inspire Payson Keeler, whose typical teenaged rebellious activity extended to having attended one keg party where she did not drink, to get a tattoo?
1. Chapter 1

The questionnaire was pretty straightforward, a simple document that asked her basic information, some fun trivia as well as a small space at the bottom to write about her feelings leading up to the Olympics.

That was the problem. The Olympics. It was only January and the Olympics weren't until July and it felt like tempting fate, like filling out the survey for the United States Olympic Committee meant acknowledging that she would be attending the Olympics when everything was still so, tenuous.

It wasn't that she doubted herself and it wasn't in her nature to be superstitious, but her pen was hesitated above the page nonetheless. Instead it aimed for the ink blotter on her mother's desk, aimlessly doodling against the margin of the cardstock. She shaded in the small design and then tilted her head, smiling at it.

"What's that mean?" a voice asked from behind her, causing her to jump slightly in her chair. "Sorry," Sasha said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"You should wear a bell or something," Payson groused as he made his way around her mother's desk to his own.

"Then I wouldn't be able to sneak up on my gymnasts when they're…what was it you were doing?" he asked, sitting down.

"Oh, just filling out my athlete survey for the Olympic Committee," she said, frowning down at the paper which read:

**Name:** Payson Keeler

**Age at the Games:** 19

**Hometown/Residence:** St. Paul, Minnesota / Boulder, Colorado

"No you were…drawing?" he said, nodding towards the ink blotter. where a Chinese character was expertly designed. "I didn't know you could write in Chinese."

Payson shook her head and unthinkingly said, "I can't. This is my tattoo." Sasha stared at her, slack jawed and Payson cringed at herself. "And I just said that out loud, didn't I?"

She had a tattoo, one he'd never even caught a glimpse of, which meant it was hidden quite well, given the amount of skin her leotards and training outfits exposed on a daily basis. His breath hitched slightly as his mind quickly catalogued the places it could be and remain so thoroughly secret.

To mask the his train of thought, Saha smiled widely at her . "Busted, Keeler," Sasha said, though he couldn't hide the awe in his expression. It was as if he'd never quite seen her before. "You have a tattoo?"

"No," she said, softly, eyes wide as saucers, "but I want one." Them seemingly gathering her courage, she asked, "Do you have any?"

"Uh," Sasha hesitated, rubbing at the back of his neck uncomfortably, until he finally admitted, "Yeah, I have two."

Payson nodded, like she somehow expected that answer. "Did they hurt?"

"Not as much as blowing out my knee," he said, knowing she would understand what he meant.

Payson nodded. She figured a tattoo would be painful, but not like her ACL injury from when she was a junior or breaking her back. It was just some temporary pain, like training soreness or a minor injury that healed itself eventually.

Sasha studied her carefully as she avoided his gaze, looking at a poster on the office wall, tucking a lose strand of hair behind her ear. What on Earth could inspire Payson Keeler, whose typical teenaged rebellious activity extended to having attended one keg party where she did not drink, to get a tattoo? Her image, both professional and private, was of perfection, timeless beauty, incalculable courage and extraordinary talent. A tattoo just didn't mesh with that image, at least not to him.

"What does it mean?" Sasha asked, extraordinarily curious. He knew it had to have some sort of deeper meaning. Despite this enlightening new insight into her, he knew one thing, she must have given it a tremendous amount of thought.

Payson smiled, finally meeting his eye again, obviously a little embarrassed. "It's the Chinese characters for 'phoenix.' You know as in…"

"Rises from the ashes," Sasha finished for her. He smiled widely at her. "That's brilliant."

"I wouldn't just get a tattoo," she said. "It's something I've thought about for a long time. I mean it's a big decision, having something on your body for the rest of your life."

"It fits," he said and she smiled at his approval. "Where would you get it?"

Payson wrinkled her nose in confusion. "I don't know. I haven't exactly been to a lot of tattoo parlors."

Sasha laughed lightly. "No, I mean on your body, where would you get it?" As the words escaped his lips he wished he could reel them back, suddenly unsure if he wanted to know, especially considering the path his thoughts took just a minute ago.

"Oh," Payson said, shaking her head at herself. "On the small of my back, just over my surgery scar. Low enough to wear a bathing suit without anyone seeing it. That's all I need, my grandmother to see it when we're at the lake house back in Minnesota. I don't need other people to see it, I'd know it was there, you know?"

Pushing aside the image he conjured of the Chinese lettering peeking out of her bikini bottoms as rivulets of water ran over her back, he said, "Makes sense." It was Payson's familiar logical thought process, one he sometimes envied. She'd obviously given it a lot of consideration. He remembered having similar thoughts when thinking about his tattoos, though grandparents hadn't entered into the equation.

"Where are yours?" she asked, quirking a smirk in his direction, her head tilted curiously.

"They're not exactly visible," he admitted, feeling a light flush creep up over his neck, more from the meandering journey of this thoughts and less because of the placement of his own tattoos.

"You have invisible tattoos?" she teased, smiling coquettishly. "I don't think those count."

"Cheeky brat," he said, eyes twinkling at her as he stood up, his hand immediately going to the button of his jeans.

Her jaw simply dropped and her eyes widened as he unzipped his fly. He grinned crookedly as he folded down the elastic of his boxer briefs. "Relax, Payson," he said, as the black material gave way to reveal two Chinese symbols.

Payson laughed softly. "Birds of a feather," she whispered leaning forward in her chair to get a better look.

"Indeed," he whispered back, just as her hand reached forward and brushed lightly against the ink staining his skin. Sasha inhaled sharply and then shivered at the ghost of a touch.

Her hand flinched away and Payson cringed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…."

"It's fine," he said, releasing the elastic and doing up his jeans. He wasn't sure what instincts initiated his actions, but they were totally inappropriate. Perhaps he meant to punish her a little for her teasing, but he'd taken it too far, as was evidenced by the rosy flush staining her cheeks. It wasn't embarrassment he read in her eyes, but something he didn't want to put a name to and just as quickly, she blinked, and it was gone.

Payson watched his jaw clench, a sure sign of agitation and she bit her lip in contrition. "What does yours mean?" she asked before an awkward silence could overwhelm them.

They'd gotten better at that over the last few years, whenever anything uncomfortable or tense settled around them, they would simply continue on as if nothing happened.

"Renegade," he said quietly. "I was a self aware little punk." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly at the younger version of himself.

"And the other one?" she asked, unable to stymy her curiosity.

Sasha laughed at her a little and she just raised her eyebrows in a challenging sort of way.

"Why not? I already showed you the other," he said, pulling his tee shirt up on one side, exposing his ribs just beneath his heart. A small Celtic cross was blue against the skin lined lightly with hair and a few freckles.

It was as magnetic as the other. Payson's fingers drifted forward brushing over the ink. "I thought you didn't believe," she said, softly.

"I don't," he responded, "she did." He hoped she couldn't feel the sudden staccato thrum of his heart as her touch burned pleasantly against his skin.

"Your mother?" Payson asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah," Sasha said simply, as her hand dropped away and he let the cotton of his shirt fall back into place.

Payson sat back in her chair and then smiled up at him softly, her expression not unlike the one he directed at her earlier, as if she were seeing him for the first time. "I like them, _both_ of them."

Sasha sat down at his desk and shrugged. "When were you planning on getting yours?" he asked, eyeing his paperwork apprehensively.

"I don't know," she said, "after the Olympics, I guess. Why?"

"Do you want to go now?"

It was a terrible idea, but he couldn't bring himself to regret the question.

Payson blinked at him and then shook her head. Had she heard him correctly? "Now?"

He shrugged again. "I know a guy. Usually you have to make an appointment, but I'm sure he'd make an exception. He owes me one."

That made her smirk. "You know a tattoo artist who owes you a favor?"

He flashed her a crooked grin. "I do."

A sudden burst of adrenaline flowed through her body at the spontaneous and totally insane idea. "Let's go."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I know, ANOTHER fic. I can't control my writing muse. I just do what she tells me. And yes, I know she's female, because guys aren't this fickle. Anyway, this was just a little something that popped into my head. It'll be this bit and then one, maybe two, at the most chapters.

I mean we all know that Sasha has at least ONE tattoo. He has to. He's friggin' Sasha Belov. And Payson, well I could see it being her one tiny rebellion. Next stop, Tattoo Lou's Ink and Piercing. ;-)

Promise more of _The Fine Print_ and _Chasing Glory_ soon.

Also, review, because they are my drug…please?


	2. Chapter 2

They ran out of the Rock like children escaping the watchful eye of their teacher, sprinting to his motorcycle, parked out where his Airstream once resided.

"This is such a bad idea," Payson said, whispering into the unseasonably crisp Colorado night, as he handed her a spare helmet.

"Chickening out?" he asked, swinging his leg over the machine and smirking.

"No way," she said, pulling the helmet over her head and buckling the strap beneath her chin. "Just don't crash."

Sasha snorted and flicked his head backwards. "Get on the bike, Keeler and hang on."

She slid in behind him, settling against the tiny backrest for a second seat she never noticed before. Biting her lip, she wondered just how many other women sat right here, leaning against his broad back, pressing their cheek in the space between his shoulders.

"Hold on tight, Pay," he instructed, before revving the engine. "Don't want you falling off."

It was her turn to snort. "I can do a standing Arabian on the beam, I think I can sit on a motorcycle." She slid her arms around torso and pressed her palms against him, feeling the warmth of his body immediately seep through the cotton T-shirt and into her skin. The contrast made her shiver lightly and so she did the only thing that made sense, she shifted in closer.

Sasha chuckled to himself lightly, knowing she would feel it, as he released the clutch and they took off out of the parking lot and into the street. He drove carefully, allowing her to get used to the subtle shifting required while riding a motorcycle, but she caught on quickly enough, molding herself to his back, thighs pressing into his as he turned onto Boulder's main thoroughfare and sped down the road towards Tattoo Lou's Ink and Piercing.

His mind drifted quickly back to that moment in his office, her fingertips reaching out tentatively, calloused from long hours of training, imperfect because their owner was chasing perfection. In that moment he wanted only one thing, to know if as rough as her fingertips were, if her lips were as soft. He imagined it, more than he'd like to admit, her mouth trailing down his chest, pausing at the ink stained skin, pressing a kiss there, tracing it with her tongue.

Swallowing roughly and suddenly uncomfortable against the motorcycle seat, Sasha was relieved to see the bright fluorescent sign with red lettering, up ahead announcing they'd reached their destination.

After living in Boulder for nearly five years, Payson was shocked to discover that there was, in fact, a seedy part of town. She knew there was the typical, right side and wrong side of the tracks, but as she climbed off the back of Sasha's motorcycle, she bit her lip and hovered close.

Of course her need for proximity had nothing to do with the fact that she was pressed against him for the ten minute ride to this other part of town, nor that she could still feel the muscles of her back shifting as he navigated the bike through Boulder's streets.

She looked up at the sign that read, _Tattoo Lou's Ink and Piercing_, then at the storefront to the left, _Stu's Corner Boxing Gym Boulder_.

Payson nodded towards the gym, lights still on inside. "You train there?" she asked.

There were times, more and more often the closer they got to the games, when Sasha would show up at the Rock with unexplained bruises on his face and knuckles, splits in his lip or brow. He would always wave off any concern, but it all suddenly made sense.

"Yeah," he said, roughly before clearing his throat. "Stress relief."

Payson rolled her eyes. "You relieve your stress on other people's faces."

He smiled widely. "And they relieve their stress on mine. It's a mutually beneficial business arrangement."

Payson hummed her disapproval. "And how do you know the owner of this place again?"

Sasha shrugged and Payson narrowed her eyes. "I may have helped him out of a small jam once. No big deal," he explained, before walking towards the door. "You coming?"

She frowned at the lack of specifics in his answer, but nodded. "Yep, but I'll say it again, this is such a bad idea."

A small bell rung as they entered. Payson furrowed her brow. She hadn't expected a tattoo parlor to have a bell on its door like a pharmacy or clothing shop.

"Belov!" a voice called out and she turned to see a large man, looking every bit like one would imagine Tattoo Lou would look, a gray pony tail held back from his receding hairline, dark jeans, white T-shirt and a leather vest with a large Harley Davidson logo on the back.

"Lou," Sasha said, extending his hand, but instead the exuberant man knocked it away and hugged him, pounding him on the back roughly before pulling away.

"And who is this?" Lou asked, eyeing Payson with raised eyebrows.

Payson smiled and Sasha stepped closer to her. "This is Payson Keeler," he said, "she wants to get a tattoo and since you said my next was on the house, I thought I'd let her cash that in for me."

Lou's brow pushed up even further into his hairline, or lack thereof, and then narrowing his eyes a bit he asked, "You eighteen?"

"Nineteen," Payson said and smiled again.

"Little young, Belov," Lou said, smirking in Sasha's direction.

Payson's draw dropped and Sasha looked at her before shaking his head. "Not like that, Lou."

Lou snorted and looked between them quickly. "Right," he said, clearly in disbelief. "So _young_ lady," he said, "this your first tattoo?"

Payson, still trying to recover her footing from his insinuation nodded. "First and only," she said.

Chuckling, Lou nodded. "That's what they all say. It's addictive," he said, leaning close as if sharing a secret. "You won't be able to help it."

"I'm very good at controlling myself," she quipped back, tossing her hair over her shoulder importantly.

Lou threw his head back and laughed heartily. "I can see why you like this one, Belov. Smart mouth, just like you."

Sasha nodded and Payson glared at him lightly.

"So what'll it be? A flower? Butterfly? Winnie the Pooh?" Lou asked, nodding towards a board where their "Most Popular Tattoos" were displayed if the sign's title was to be believed.

Payson shook her head, digging into the pocket of her jeans. "This," she said, holding out the small piece of cardstock she remembered to take with her as they left the Rock. "Only…" she trailed off, "Sasha, could you show him yours? I like the stylized ends on the lettering."

Sasha hesitated, knowing he was going to take some ribbing from Lou. Payson knowing what _that_ particular tattoo looked like implied that they very much were what they just insisted they weren't.

Unbuttoning his pants and folding back the elastic of his boxer briefs quickly, Lou took a look and nodded. "I can do that," he said. "And you're lucky, it's a slow night, we can do it right now. Let me just get a sketch done, I'll run it through the machine and we can get started."

Lou reached behind the counter and handed her a clipboard with some paperwork attached. "Fill that out and I'll be right back."

Payson chuckled lightly to herself as she took a seat in one of the chairs against the wall. Sasha sat next to her.

"What's funny?"

She nodded towards the survey. "I'm here because I was avoiding doing some paperwork that looks almost exactly like this."

Sasha smiled at the small irony and then grabbed the hand holding the pen. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

Her tongue darted out, moistening her lower lip as she met his eyes. "Yes."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Ahh! Payson's totally going through with it! Just to answer a few questions from reviews I got. This fic is a total stand alone, not associated with any of my other stories in any way, shape or form. It's just some fun fluff.

Secondly, I am SO SO SO excited to announce that I've finally made some headway with the original work I've been talking about recently. It's a major work in progress right now, but I've set up a blog with pictures, character descriptions and the prologue to the actual book. As I go along I'll be posting "prequel" one shots, with character backstories and such, so once I'm done with the actual novel you guys will be "in the know" so to speak! There will also be a small tennis tutorial that will help out anyone who doesn't know much about the game.

Go check it out at gamesetmatchanovel dot blogspot dot com

Make sure you leave a comment so I know you stopped by and let me know what you think of the characters and the prologue! Even if you've already visited, there may be some new stuff since you were there last!

There is also a link on my profile and a twitter account you can follow for updates!


	3. Chapter 3

The tattoo chair resembled a dentist's chair in a way that made Payson hesitate. Shaking her head at herself, she moved towards it, her hand going to the button of her jeans.

Her eyes looked up at Sasha, hovering at the doorway. Their eyes met and she smiled. "You don't think I'm going to do this without you holding my hand, do you?" she asked.

Sasha nodded and stepped into the room.

"Are you sure you want this on the small of your back?" Lou asked. "It's going to look like a tramp stamp."

Payson rolled her eyes and Sasha snorted. "Maybe Lauren should stop by later and get one," she said then bit her lip. "Was that too mean?"

Sasha shrugged. "You said it. I was thinking it."

"Why don't you get it on your lower hip, like Sasha?" Lou suggested. "Like a mirror, that way they'll press together when you two…" he trailed off.

Payson laughed as Sasha's eyes bugged out and he coughed uncomfortably.

"No, I want it on my back," she said, unzipping the fly of her jeans and letting them shimmy down her hips, before straddling the tattoo chair. "Between the two incision scars, do you see them?"

Lou cleared his throat and looked over her head at Sasha, who nodded.

"You have to fold down the elastic of your underwear," Lou said. "You don't want the ink visible while you're in a bathing suit, right?"

"That's the idea," she said, standing up, rolling the lacy band of her boy shorts down and folding up the hem of her tank top as well, before sitting again.

"This'll be a little cold," Lou said, using a disinfectant spray on her back, wiping the skin clean. "Okay, ready to go?"

Payson's eyes flashed up to Sasha's and held. He seemed to be wavering a bit and for a moment she panicked.

Sasha saw the sudden indecision on her face and winced. He never should have suggested this. It was irresponsible and so inappropriate. And it was like something out of his fantasies. The ones he would never admit to having even under pain of death. There she was, in nothing but her underwear and a tank top, an acquaintance of his about to tattoo her body permanently and he was just standing there, like an idiot.

Then she reached out and said, "Hold my hand?"

He could never say no to her, not when she asked for something from him. So of course, he pulled a folding chair from against the wall and moved it towards the tattoo chair.

"How long will it take?" he asked Lou.

"One this tiny?" Lou said. "Fifteen minutes."

Sasha took Payson's hand in his and squeezed it. "You can do fifteen minutes, right?" he asked.

She nodded, though there was still some tension at the corners of her eyes.

"How about I distract you?"

Lou guffawed from his seat just a yard or so away. "Don't _distract_ her too much. You stay still young lady."

Sasha arched an eyebrow at her and Payson bit her lip. For a moment he allowd himself to indulge in all the ways he could distract her that would require movement, most of which began with him kicking Lou out of the room before he got started.

"So how would you like to be distracted, pisicuţă?"

Payson blinked. "What does that mean, pisicuţă?" she said, totally butchering the pronunciation.

Shockingly enough, Sasha blushed. Payson didn't think she'd ever seen him blush before.

He shook his head. "I didn't even realize I said it," he mumbled.

The tattoo pen began to buzz and Payson tensed a little, squeezing his hand. Sasha ran his thumb along her knuckles and the grip loosened.

"It means kitten," he said, focusing on distracting her, not his own embarrassment.

"Kitten?" she asked, pouting a little. "Me?"

That was an expression he'd never seen on her face. Her lips were drawn together not in anger or frustration, but a coy little bow that fascinated him. He smiled as she looked up at him through her lashes.

"You," he affirmed, more sure than ever, now that she was looking at him like that, that the term applied.

She hissed in pain, breaking eye contact and with it, the moment of…whatever it was. He hesitated to put a name on it.

Sasha squeezed her hand again and ran his thumb along the inside of her wrist. "How about I tell you about getting my tattoos?" he suggested.

She laughed and Lou tisked behind her. "Keep still, Payson."

"Sorry," she apologized. "Yes, I'd like to hear about your tattoos."

"The first one," Sasha began, smiling, "the first one was just after I left Romania."

Payson wrinkled her brow. "You were sixteen when you got a tattoo?" she asked.

Sasha chuckled. "I forgot you read my book. Yeah, I was sixteen. I wasn't nearly as well behaved as you are, pisicuţă."

"Well, as I'm sitting here getting a tattoo, I don't think I'm in a position to judge you," she said. "Go on."

"Anyway, it was just after I left Romania and before I met Nicolai. My mother, she didn't know what to do with me and honestly, I was out of control."

Sasha hesitated. When he started telling this story, he forgot how much pain he went through during that time in his life. Now it was all coming back to him.

"Sasha?" Payson asked, bringing him back to the present.

"Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "Anyway, it wasn't pretty. All I had in my head was what my father yelled at me when I walked out of his gym. Răsculat, rebel."

Payson frowned and tilted her head, sending a lock of hair falling into her face, "But that's what everyone called you back then. The Rebel."

Sasha reached out and tucked the long blonde strands of hair back behind her ear and tapped her on the nose. "That's what the _media_ called me, but I hated it." He sighed, "In Romanian, the word doesn't mean what it's come to mean in America. It's not like James Dean, _Rebel Without a Cause_, it's more…traitor. I took it to heart."

"So what happened?" she asked.

He smiled. "Ah, something you don't know about me, pisicuţă."

That pout was back and Sasha knew he would call her that name as many times as he possibly could as long as he could be assured her lips would pull together and her eyes would widen coquettishly.

"Sasha," she said, laughing.

"Payson," Lou warned again, glaring at Sasha over her head.

"Sorry," they said together.

"Right, what happened. My mother called Nicolai. He was an old friend of my parents and she asked him to coach me. I fought it, for weeks and he pushed me _so hard_ until finally, I snapped."

"You snapped?"

"I took a swing at him," Sasha admitted. "We beat the living shit out of each other. Then he looked at me and asked, 'Okay, renegat, are you ready to work?' And from then on, that's what he called me, renegade. So that's why I got the tattoo."

"And the second one?" she asked, totally enraptured by the story and desperate to hear more.

Sasha's eyes met Lou's over her shoulder. "The second one, I'll save for another time."

She opened her mouth to protest, but she was cut off.

"Done," Lou said, shutting off the tattoo pen, the constant buzzing suddenly gone.

"That's it?" Payson asked, arching her neck backwards, trying to see.

"That's it," Lou affirmed, holding up a mirror to her back so she could see it properly.

Payson smiled. It was perfect. Exactly how she imagined it, sitting between the two incisions Dr. Cjlister's made at the base of her spine. "Wow," she said.

His eyes traveled over her skin, the start blue of the Chinese character, before he glanced up and met her gaze in the mirror.

"Do you like it?" she asked, turning to face him.

He tilted his head and looked down where their hands were still joined as he distracted her through the pain.

"I love it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I love this little fluff piece. Okay, so I added a little non-fluff bit to it. This is the second to last chapter of my little R&tP universe. Hope you all are enjoying it!

Credit goes out to VirgoWriter, who makes use of the word, pisicuţă, quite a lot in her fics. I've absolutely fallen in love with the word.

As always, thanks for reading and don't forget to review!

Also, if you're a NJYbA fan, head over to that fic. There's a contest posted in the last chapter. Don't miss out on a Christmas chapter from the NJYbA universe!


	4. Chapter 4

Payson tossed her dirty clothes in her gym bag and then dropped her towel. She pulled on her underwear and then her bra.

"What is that?" Lauren asked from across the aisle.

Closing her eyes, Payson flinched. So far she'd been able to hide the tattoo from everyone, including her teammates. She was extra careful, making sure to change alone, but after two weeks, she'd simply forgot.

"What is what?" she asked, pulling on her jeans and reaching for her tank top, but wasn't able to grab it as Lauren hooked her finger in the belt loop of her jeans and tugged her back.

"That," she said, pulling down on the edge of the material until the small Chinese symbol was visible.

Payson pulled away from her. "My tattoo," she said simply.

"Your what?" Kaylie shrieked from the other side of the lockers.

"Shhh," Payson hushed as the other girl raced around and stood with her mouth gaping open in shock. They were the last girls in the gym, but that didn't mean she needed someone just wandering by to over hear their conversation. "My tattoo."

"Let me see," Kaylie said.

Lauren reached for her again, but Payson jumped away. "I got it, Lo," she said, unzipping her pants and folding down the top.

"What does it mean?" Kaylie asked.

"Who cares," Lauren said. "When did you get a tattoo and why didn't you tell us?"

Payson shrugged. "It was a spur of the moment kind of thing."

Lauren snorted. "You have _never_ in your entire life done anything on the spur of the moment."

Biting her lip, Payson had to acknowledge it as truth. It was a side to her Sasha brought out. Just a smile and a challenging eyebrow from him was enough to get her to do just about anything.

"I thought about the actual tattoo for a while," she admitted, "but I decided to get it and I just…got it. No big deal." She turned and zipped her pants back up.

"No big deal?" Kaylie said. "Payson, it's a tattoo. It's a huge deal."

"Where did you get it?" Lauren asked.

"This tattoo place on the other side of town."

She cursed herself inwardly. That was too much information. Now they would want to know…

"You went to some random tattoo parlor by yourself?" Kaylie asked.

"Sure," she said, shrugging indifferently.

Lauren laughed. "You're such a terrible liar, Payson. Who'd you go with?"

Mentally, she ran through her options. There was no way they'd believe she went with Becca or either of her parents, besides that then she would risk them mentioning it. She thought maybe Austin, but he definitely would have said something to Kaylie already. She was left with one option, the truth.

"Sasha took me."

Kaylie's jaw dropped and she stared silently, but Lauren smirked.

"Sasha took you?" she asked. "How did that happen?"

Payson shrugged. "It was weird. We were talking and the subject came up and I mentioned that I wanted one, so he suggested we go."

Lauren sent her an arch look. "There is so much more to that story Payson and you're going to share it."

She rolled her eyes. "That's all there was too it, Lo. I wanted one, he came with me, end of story."

"Did it hurt?" Kaylie asked.

Shrugging, she said, "A little, but not too bad."

"What does it mean?" Lauren asked, repeating Kaylie's question from earlier.

"It's the Chinese symbol for phoenix."

They blinked at her for a moment. "That's kind of perfect," Kaylie said, finally.

Lauren's eyes narrowed. "How did the subject come up with Sasha? I mean it's not a normal topic of conversation."

Damn, Lauren. She was such a nosy brat. "I was doodling it on a piece of paper and he wanted to know what it was. I wasn't even thinking when I said it was the tattoo I wanted."

"And…" Lauren prodded.

"And he mentioned he knew a tattoo artist who could probably fit me in and that was that."

"Sasha knows a tattoo artist?" Kaylie asked.

"Wait, does Sasha have a tattoo?" Lauren cut in. Then she smiled, shaking her head. "Of course he has a tattoo, probably more than one."

"He has two," Payson said, sighing, finally resigning herself to the conversation.

Lauren smirked. "I wonder where they are."

Payson flushed and looked away, shrugging. Lauren's eyes grew wide and she looked to Kaylie who caught on quickly.

"You've seen his tattoos haven't you? Haven't you?"

"She totally has," Kaylie said. "Come on Payson, tell us."

"You two are ridiculous. He has two tattoos. A cross and a…a Chinese symbol that means renegade." She left out the story of why Sasha chose those tattoos. That was private and she wouldn't have shared even if they asked.

"Ladies," Sasha's voice echoed into the locker room, saving her from further humiliation, "I want to lock up for the night."

Payson grabbed her shirt from her locker and threw it over her head. "We're almost done," she called back. Then slammed her locker door shut and slung her bag over her shoulder. Kaylie and Lauren were right behind her as they all left the locker room.

Sasha stood against the far wall, waiting for them. Lauren and Kaylie looked at each other and then burst into hysterical giggles. He tilted his head in confusion, but decided he didn't want to know, waving them away.

"Night Pay," Lauren called as she and Kaylie sped out of the gym. "Night Sasha."

"What was that about?" he asked, as he locked the door to the women's locker room.

"They saw my tattoo," she said, "and they force the story out of me."

Clearning his throat, Sasha swallowed roughly. "The whole story?" he asked.

Payson shook her head and he felt a sense of relief wash over him. "Just the basics," she insisted.

Guilt spread through his body. He knew that what happened was wrong. Over the last few years the line between coach and friend blurred with Payson more than any other athlete he'd ever worked with, but what happened that night wasn't the actions of either a coach or a friend. It was…something else entirely, something Sasha knew was totally inappropriate and yet he couldn't bring himself to regret.

"Good then," he said, wishing he could fill the silence in some other way. They'd managed to avoid the topic these last few weeks, but now it was out there again and awkward didn't even begin to describe the air around them.

"Sasha."

"Payson."

They laughed and Sasha motioned for her to speak.

"I wanted to thank you," she said, smiling softly, "for going with me. I'm not sure if I ever would have worked up the courage to do it on my own."

He shook his head. "I guess I should say your welcome, but we both know I never should have offered…"

Payson's brow furrowed, the smile slipping from her face. "Then why did you?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Oh," she said, looking down, avoiding his eyes.

Crap, he'd hurt her. That was the last thing he wanted to do, but maybe it was better if she thought it didn't mean anything. It was certainly better that she didn't know she was the only one he ever told the story of his first tattoo.

"I guess I should get going," Payson said.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I guess you should."

The hurt was still in her eyes as she hitched her gym bag more securely onto her shoulder and turned away from him towards the door.

Sasha watched her go and felt his heart clench. This was starting to spin out of control. He shouldn't be feeling this. He shouldn't go to sleep every night remembering how it felt to have her pressed up against him on the back of his motorcycle. Or even, innocently enough, how she gripped his hand while Lou tattooed her back.

It was a short leap from that motorcycle and tattoo chair to his bed, twining their fingers together, her body wrapped around his.

Sasha shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, before rearing back and punching the locker room door.

"Fuck," he bit out, his hand throbbing.

"Sasha?" Payson's voice echoed back through the gym. "I left my cell phone in the locker room. Sasha?" She appeared from around the office wall and frowned. "What happened?"

He cradled his hand in the other and shook his head. "Nothing, I'm fine."

She shook her head. "You're not fine," she said. "Let me see."

Her tone was so no nonsense he extended his hand towards her out of sheer instinct. "Really, it's nothing."

"Sasha," she said, her fingertips brushing gently against his pulse point, sending jolts a pleasure through him, mixing with the pain. "What happened?"

Sighing heavily, he slipped his hand from hers. "Nothing, Payson. Nothing happened." Suddenly, those words seemed to hold so much more meaning. Nothing had happened, nothing that they couldn't explain away easily enough, even the worst of it, he had a list of rationalizations a mile long for each and every moment between them.

Payson bit her lip and met his eye. His eyes pleaded with hers to drop it, to just let it go, as they always had before. He couldn't do this, _wouldn't_ do this to her.

She nodded and looked away, exhaling sharply. "Okay then," she said and breathed deeply again. "I'll just grab my phone and get out of your way."

He wanted to call her back. He wanted to tell her that she could never be in his way, not really, that he wanted her there for as long as she was willing to stay. She disappeared into the locker room and came out again a moment later before making a hasty exit.

And he remained silent.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Ah! This was supposed to be just some fun fluff! How did I manage to make it angsty! Only me.

Anyway, this was supposed to be the last chapter, but of course, I went off on a tangent, so there will be one more after this.

Also, thanks to Eliza for giving me a nudge about this story. ;-)

Hope you all enjoyed this and for you Game. Set. Match. fans out there, there are a couple of new prequels up on the blog. Go check them out! There's also a Character Interview Contest up, where you can ask questions of your favorite character(s) in the GSM universe! As always you can get to it from the link in my profile!


	5. Chapter 5

Sasha wandered into the office, studying the Level Ten evaluations, the last of the paperwork he had to get through before they left for London. He didn't want any loose ends, nothing weighing on his mind for the next few weeks. Everything had to be about the Games. Three of his athletes, four if you counted Austin Tucker, were headed to London and they needed every ounce of his focus.

A sudden slam, metal crashing against metal jolted him from the miniscule differences between the L10's double twisting Yurchenkos.

"Kim?"

His gym manager, standing at the filing cabinet, slammed another drawer.

"Everything alright?"

She spun and glared at him, her eyes flashing, so much like her daughter when she was fired up about something.

"No, everything's not alright."

"Really? Never would have guessed."

Kim rolled her eyes at him, her shoulders relaxing. "I just…I guess I should be relieved that she does something rebellious and normal every once in a while, but…"

Sasha's breath caught in his throat, the panic rising up into his chest. She knew about the tattoo.

"What happened?" he asked, cringing at implicit lie in his question. He knew what happened. He happened.

"You're not going to believe this," Kim said, shaking her head. "Payson got a tattoo, one of those ridiculous tramp stamps on her back. Apparently she'd been hiding it for weeks."

He blinked, but stayed silent, looking over her head at the far wall.

"Sasha? Did you hear what I…you already knew, didn't you?"

Kim was always really good at reading him. He nodded once, a sharp jerk of his head, his back teeth grinding, holding back the whole truth.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I…" Swallowing down the lies, he strode to the office door, sliding it shut. Then he turned and looked her in the eye. "I was with her when she got it."

Kim's nostril's flare and daggers shot out from her eyes. "You were what?"

"I was there. I went with her to the tattoo place."

Her silence rang out louder than any outburst could have and the guilt he'd been trying to suppress over the last few weeks with varying degrees of success, burst forth.

"I'm sorry, Kim. It was…"

She lifted a hand and stopped him. "I think it's past time we had this conversation, Sasha."

"What…what do you mean?"

Kim sighed and motioned towards his desk chair. She wanted him to sit, which either meant she was going to tie him to said chair and stick sharpened pencils under his nails as punishment or she wanted to talk – really talk – about…Payson. His stomach lurched as he took a seat. He wasn't ready for this.

She sat down at her desk, like she was sitting down to type up a memo, business-like, as if this conversation were nothing more than one of her usual weekly updates about the administrative goings-on at the Rock.

"When Payson kissed you…"

"Kim, nothing happened," he cut in.

Glaring at him for his interruption, she started again. "When Payson kissed you and you called me that night in a panic, aside from the shock, I remember thinking that at the very least she knew what kind of man she should be looking for."

"That's not…"

"Let me finish. I was…I was relieved it was you and not that pothead she met in high school or some idiot she met here at the Rock like that fickle Russo boy or Austin Tucker. I was relieved that she chose the best man she knew to be her inspiration."

"I'm not…"

"You are _easily_ the best man in her life."

"I don't…I don't know what you…."

"Sasha, shut up."

He fell back against his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. What was she trying to say?

"When she met Rigo, I thought, well this is it, she finally found someone right for her in every way, but she never looked at him the way she looks at you. I wasn't surprised when it fizzled out"

"Kim, I really don't understand what you're trying to say."

"You don't? Then I'll spell it out for you. I know what you two mean to each other and I think, even after all this time, you're still the man she wants."

"And I don't get any say in this?"

"I think you've already had plenty to say, Sasha." She raised her eyebrows meaningfully. "That medal she had tucked away in her nightstand, taking her to get a tattoo. I've never been a fan of clichés, but actions speak louder than words and your actions have been screaming your intentions for years now."

God help him, he couldn't deny it. "I'm so sorry, Kim."

"Don't be sorry. Just don't let me regret this."

"I'm still not quite sure what _this_ is. Are you saying that you _want_…"

"What I want is irrelevant and has been from most of her life. What I'm saying is – I understand."

She was using his own words against him. He remembered that conversation, nearly four years ago now, about cortisone and how Payson wasn't like other teenagers. That raising an Olympic champion wasn't the same as raising, well, anyone else.

"Kim," he said, stopping her as she stood to leave. She raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Payson – her tattoo – it's not a, what did you call it?"

"Tramp stamp."

He snorted softly. "It's the Chinese symbol for phoenix. As in rises from the ashes. It was something she was considering for years, not just a whim."

"Sasha, if there's one thing I know about my daughter, she never does anything on a whim."

And suddenly they were no longer talking about the tattoo. Kim stood and left, but he barely noticed, her words running through his mind over and over again. She'd what? Given him her blessing? Told him to go for it?

Sasha glanced out the office window into the gym. The Level Tens had cleared out and the Elite girls were taking over the floor. Lauren was running through her floor routine. Kaylie was doing vault timers and Payson was up on the beam, walking through her beam acro-series, eyes trained like lasers onto the four inches below her. He watched her throw an aerial cartwheel, frowning to herself over a small wobble as she landed and then walking back with purpose to do it again.

If what Kim said was true, if Payson wanted him as much…it was time to admit it to himself…as much as he wanted her, then maybe…maybe after London they could…

His thoughts trailed off and he smiled. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

><p>For the first time since getting that damn tattoo, she wasn't wearing a training leo, just a pair of gym-shorts and a sports bra. All the girls were similarly dressed as the heat from the July sun overpowered any cool airing blowing off the mountains surrounding Boulder. She hadn't worn a training outfit like that in weeks to hide the blue ink on her back, but now that her friends and parents knew about it, there was no reason to suffer in a spandex deathtrap.<p>

It was a relief that her parents knew, even though they'd freaked. Phoebe had wedged herself under the couch and Payson lay on the floor coaxing her back out when Becca, being the bratty little sister that she is, grabbed her by her ankles and dragged her back across the carpet. Her shorts rode down just enough to expose the tattoo and make that vein in the side of her dad's head protrude dangerously.

She exhaled, clearing her mind of the memory before bouncing up on the ball of her foot and springing into her aerial cartwheel. Her feet landed firmly on the beam, chest up, shoulders in line – perfect.

"Watch your toe point," Sasha said, suddenly beside the beam. "Don't flex your foot until absolutely necessary."

She nodded without looking down at him. He ignored it, but she couldn't help but feel weird around him since that night last week. Awkwardness hung in the air around them, the same way it had after she kissed him, except this time he'd totally shut down on her. There was no speech about the special bond they shared, no explanation of that certain kind of love, nothing. Just…nothing.

Pushing past it as best she could, she said, "I'd do the routine in pointe shoes if the judges let me, Sasha, but I have to flex my foot before I hint the beam or I'll break my toes."

"You can afford to wait a split second longer. Come down here."

She hopped off the beam and stood in front of him, blowing a stay piece of hair out of her eyes. "Well?"

"I want you to do a normal cartwheel. I'm going to catch your legs in the air, so be prepared."

Her brow furrowed. Were they back to this again, hundreds of cartwheels a day, each one almost exactly the same, picking at her for a curled over big toe?

"Sasha, we only have…"

"Do it, Payson."

Sniffing in annoyance, she pushed up onto her toes and into a cartwheel. His hands gripped her calves like steel about halfway through the kick over.

"Okay, I'm going to guide you through the end."

The calloused tips of his fingers gently slid across her skin, easing up on the resistance, letting gravity finish the somersault.

"Here," he said, running one hand over her foot, which was already flexing in preparation for the ground. She pointed the toe instinctively at his touch.

"Good, just a few more inches," he said, allowing her leg to split further down, "and now you can flex."

She finished the cartwheel with his help, having lost all momentum when he held her legs aloft in midair. He stood behind her, hands at her hips to keep her steady, but he didn't move away. His breath was warm against the back of her neck and goose bumps spread across her skin as a shiver slid through her body.

Her eyes darted across the gym, but Lauren and Kaylie were both focused on their routines and so she relaxed into his hands.

"Sasha," she breathed, her eyes flickering closed as one of his hands drifted across her back, his thumb brushing over her scars and then tracing the lines of the small Chinese character.

"I love this on you. It's perfect." He said the same thing at Lou's after seeing it for the first time, but somehow this time it meant so much more. She didn't know what changed, but she was eternally grateful for it.

"I love it too."

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "about what I said the other day. I didn't want you to go."

Swallowing thickly, she took a deep breath and nodded. "I didn't want to go."

"Good. We'll talk soon," he said and began to pull away.

"Promise?" she asked, her hand gripping his wrist, holding him with her for just a few more seconds.

"I promise."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Wheeeee! I love this fic. Back to the Fluffy McFlufferson it was supposed to be from the get-go and away from the ridiculous angst that crept in for a hot second. This is the second to last chapter. One more and donzo!

I'm so psyched. It seems like my MIOBI muse really is back, guys!

I know I have a bunch of new readers, so I'm about to do the shameless plug thing again. If you haven't already, check out the blog for my original work, _Game. Set. Match._ I promise, if you love the MIOBI guys and girls, you'll love my characters too, especially Alex Russell who is just as swoon-worthy as Sasha Belov, if I do say so myself! Anyway, check it out here:

gamesetmatchanovel (dot) blogspot (dot) com

Thanks guys and don't forget to review! Reviews are crack and I'm an addict!


	6. Epilogue

Payson pressed herself further into Sasha's back. The vibrations of the motorcycle's engine cut off after her pulled to a stop in her parents' driveway, but she just held on tighter.

A chuckle from deep inside Sasha's chest echoed through her skin. "We were going to have to face the music sometime," he said, patting her hands, still linked across his abdomen. He untangled her fingers and enfolded her hand into his. "Come on."

She allowed him to swing his leg over the bike and let him pull her along.

It had been four weeks since she last saw her parents. They'd left London after she won her fourth gold medal – on floor exercise – and she'd promised to see them soon.

A month later, after sneaking away from the Olympic village in the early morning hours post-Closing Ceremonies, she and Sasha were finally home.

The other girls were still on the post-Olympic exhibition tour, but Payson - much to the chagrin of her agent and sponsors, had backed out at the last minute. The fans were outraged, but her teammates understood. She needed time to decompress and thousands of screaming tween girls applauding back handsprings and watered down beam routines weren't going to help.

That wasn't the only reason. She glanced down at her hand, still linked with Sasha's. Her sponsors quickly forgave her dropping out of the tour when the paparazzi photos of her and her coach were plastered on every gossip magazine after they took a flight to the south of France, then to Italy, tracing the coast of the Mediterranean, a quick skip over to Bucharest to see his father and then to India and finally to the beaches of Sydney – the sight of his own Olympic triumphs – where they stopped for two weeks before flying home to Minnesota, where her parents were settled at last.

A month's worth of publicity and exposure simply by laying on beaches in a bikini with the man she loved more than anything in the world – where gymnastics was kept to the privacy of their hotel room and decidedly not appropriate for any audience at all.

Her feet still rooted to the ground, Sasha lifted their joined hands to his lips and placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist, where the blue ink of her new tattoo, the Olympic rings, was healed and matched the one on his wrist perfectly.

"How upset do you think they're going to be?" she asked, leaning into him.

"They're your parents, love. I'd say we're about to walk into the apocalypse, but they might surprise you. They've had an entire month to get used to the idea."

She doubted they were any more used to the idea than they'd been when she called them from the hotel in San Tropez, explaining where she was and who she was with. Her mom hadn't sounded surprised, but she could still hear her dad's expletive laden rant. Words like irresponsible and unreliable were nothing compared to the others he used, like statutory and child-abuse.

Straightening her shoulders and exhaling a deep breath they way she would before every vault run, she pushed up to her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. "No matter what happens, I love you."

Her wardrobe was rarely a huge concern, but Payson had paid extra attention to the outfit she picked out this morning in their hotel room. The dress was a soft navy blue silk with a sheer overlay, the hem at the middle of her thighs, the waist cinched in. She knew she must have made a hell of a picture on the back of Sasha's motorcycle, but she didn't care. She needed her parents to see her differently than they had just a few weeks ago. That Sasha's feelings for her matched the ones she had for him was a part of that, but not the only change in her. The Olympics had been a transformative experience for her; the same way college was for most girls her age.

"Let's go," he said, slipping his hand back into hers and pulling her up the walkway.

"Payson!" Becca said as soon as she opened the door, barreling through the entry and wrapping her arms around her waist.

"I missed you too, Becca," she said, returning the hug tightly.

Her sister pulled back and looked at her and then at Sasha, before smirking. "Welcome back."

Sasha ran his hands through his hair and cleared his throat. "Thanks."

Becca rolled her eyes and launched herself at him too. Tensing, not sure what to do with his arms, he met Payson's eye over Becca's head. She laughed silently at his predicament, so he went with his instinct and hugged her younger sister.

Finally Becca pulled away. "I'm so glad you guys are back."

Payson narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Because Mom and Dad will finally be able to concentrate on something that's not my belly button ring."

"You got your belly button pierced?" Payson shrieked, as they stepped into the house, her parents moving towards them.

"Apparently your little sister is a lot more like you than we thought," her mom said, embracing her tightly. "Welcome home."

"Thanks, Mom."

Stepping back, Payson eyed Sasha who was standing in the entranceway looking more nervous than she'd ever seen him.

"Kim," he said, a small smile, sheepish even, like she was his own mother.

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, Payson watched her mom step forward and pull Sasha into a hug, then as she leg go, she reeled back and punched his shoulder.

"Oy," Sasha protested, rubbing the offended spot.

"When I said what I did, I didn't mean kidnap my daughter and drag her around the world."

A throat clearing from down the hallway drew everyone's attention. The relief that spread through her at her mom's reaction was gone, replaced by dread at what her dad would say.

Payson stepped forward, hoping to belay the shouting, extending her arms she reached for her dad. He caught her hand before she could hug him and turned her wrist over, examining the tattoo. It had been a month. Nothing she said now was going to change the way her dad felt about her and Sasha. So she just tensed her shoulders and waited for the screaming to start.

Instead, she felt a tug on her hand and she was pulled into her father's arms.

"Promise me one thing," he whispered.

She pulled back, still unsure of his reaction. "What?" she asked.

"If he's what you want, fine, I can _learn_ to live with it," he said, leveling a glare at Sasha that would have killed most men on the spot, "but no more tattoos."

Launching herself back towards him, hugging him close, Payson said, "I promise."

* * *

><p>Yay! I could't help but make this the fluffiest thing I've ever written. The Renegade and Phoenix go home and all is well in Keeler land.<p>

My MIOBI muse is very fickle lately. With a distinct lack of source material and no hope for more, I find it's really hard to write in this universe. Where it HASN'T been hard to write though, is my original stuff. As most of you know, I finished my original novel, GSM.

What most of you don't know is that I've also signed with a literary agency and I'm on the path towards publication. I actually should have news about the "end" of that path REALLY soon, so if you haven't yet, check out my blog with its new updated address:

jenniferiacopelli dot blogspot dot com

Yes, I'm a real life author now, with a real life author website.

I'm starting a new original work in progress as well. I can't say too much about it, but what I can tell you is: Anastasia, Robin Hood and Outer Space. So far it's been A LOT of fun to plot out and I'm just getting started with it, so you can follow its progress on my blog as well. There are already character pictures up if you'd like to see them.

The Olympics are ten days away, which means the gymnastics prelims are eleven days away! The USA women's team is the exact team I picked after World Championships last year (yeah, I could be Martha Karolyi…not) and I think they've got a ridiculously good chance at winning gold! I'm SO excited.

I do have some other ideas for my MIOBI WIP, but those come second to my original stuff right now. Hope you guys understand.


	7. GAME SET MATCH is Live!

Hi everyone,

As many of you know, the reason I stopped writing MIOBI fanfiction was that I was working on my own original work, GAME. SET. MATCH. I'm so excited to announce that GSM is out there in the world and ready to read!

Holly Sorensen, the creator of MIOBI was even kind enough to read it and write a blurb for the novel! Here's what she had to say:

"Everyone is playing for keeps both on and off the court in Jennifer Iacopelli's addictive first novel. If you like passionate girls who put it all on the line, hot men who are hard to read, and friendship that's about more than gossip and clothes, look no further than the Outer Banks Tennis Academy. There you'll find three rising stars, whose love, sweat and tears will have you cheering from page one. I can't wait for the next book!"

So if you loved NJYbA, Lost and Found, Chasing Glory and my other MIOBI fics, I think you'll love GSM too! The reviews so far have been awesome and one reader even compared it to MIOBI.

If you head to Amazon or Barnes & Noble's websites and type in my real name, "Jennifer Iacopelli" (what jci stands for, Jennifer Carolyn Iacopelli).

I want to thank you all for all of your support over the last few years!

Thanks so much!

JCI


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